Page 50 of Filthy Rich

Ha.

I’m serious. You’d be amazing.

They’d have to rewrite the entire thing to address my face. Pass.

Think of the good that could come of it—how many people you could reach.

No after-school specials for me, thanks.

Fine, but for the record, I vote Octavia.

Checked the ballots. You were the only one.

I’m smiling when I walk into the room, and I hope on the other side of the phone, she is too. As predicted, the next few hours are pretty brutal. I read with a half dozen women I’ve met before, and two new faces.

They’re all terrible.

Some of them are decent actors, and that’s what matters. It is, at the end of the day, a job. That’s why they pay us. I grit my teeth, and I tell each of them in turn how lovely it would be to work with them. I nod in agreement when they say how horrible it was to discover what a bad person Patrice Jouveau was, as if it was a surprise to any of us.

But then, the last screen test walks in.

It’s May Markson.

She’s literally the girl-next-door in my favorite sitcom. I’m honestly bummed to see her here. I like to at least pretend, with the few shows I watch, that the person in them is decent. Kind. Funny. Smart.

I know it’s unlikely, but I can hope.

And all my hopes are about to be dashed.

“Hey,” she says. “I’m May, and you can call me May.” She shrugs, and with a half-grin says, “Plus, it’s my actual name, and May’s better than April, right?”

It’s a little corny, but there’s not enough of innocent humor in Hollywood. After we read our lines, the producer, director, and their finance team disappear to talk, leaving me with May.

“I really enjoy Just Three Neighbors,” I say. “It’s refreshingly honest and still upbeat.”

“Oh, thanks.” She beams. “I hardly have to say that I would be honored to work with you. Stepping up to movies—I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

Is it possible I’ve just met the only non-arrogant actress in LA? “Well, they don’t really let me vote, but I’d vote for you for sure.”

“Honestly, I’d vote for Octavia Rothschild,” she says. “After seeing those videos, it seems like a movie role is the least of what she should get after dealing with Patrice.” Her lip curls. “Who knew she was such a jerk?”

“Everyone,” I say. “But as it happens, I agree with you.”

“So you’re really dating her, then?” May’s eyes widen. “She’s really pretty, and her voice.” She whistles. “I’ve been listening to the soundtrack raw cuts on repeat since they called me about the role. I can’t get enough of it.”

“Those raw cuts aren’t?—”

“Supposed to be on the internet?” She shrugs. “I know, but they leave them to build hype, and I think it’s working. They weren’t even hard to find. I think YouTube’s pushing them, to be honest.”

Probably. People always do whatever they can if it’s in their interest. Dad got that right. “Well, it’s nice to hear that you appreciate her, and yes, we’re dating.”

May closes her eyes and exhales. “You didn’t hear this from me, but my boyfriend will be all kinds of relieved.”

“You have a boyfriend?” I lean closer. “I haven’t seen a whiff of that on social.”

“Posting about your normal-guy boyfriend is really more of an ‘established actress’ kind of move,” she says. “My agent says I can’t let anyone know I’m serious with someone until I’ve gotten a few movie deals. So far… none.” She shrugs. “I think all the secrecy makes Stuart nervous, so he’ll be so happy to hear you’re dating Octavia.”

I imagine Octavia will like that May’s not pursuing me, either. A moment later, I stand up. “Restroom.” I point.

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